


I'm only human

by selflessbellamy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort Fluff, Smut, bellamy in coma, or I guess mild smut but it's the most smutty thing i've written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 10:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2728175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selflessbellamy/pseuds/selflessbellamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Bellamy is dragged to camp, horribly tortured by The Mountain Men, he slips into coma, and Clarke might just realize how much she needs him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm only human

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist for this story:
> 
> \- 'Flowers for a ghost' by Thriving Ivory  
> \- 'Say you love me' by Jessie Ware  
> \- 'Talk' by Kodaline  
> \- 'Medicine' by Daughter  
> \- 'This love' by Taylor Swift  
> \- 'Can't pretend' by Tom Odell

_Who will bring me flowers when it’s over?_

_And who will give me comfort when it’s cold?_

_And who will I belong to when the day just won’t give in?_

**_Don’t ever say goodbye._ **

Kneeling next to the makeshift bed was like time only stopped to stab a knife in her heart, because seeing him as he was just then did not seem real; actually, something made her seriously believe this whole thing to be a nightmare, which she would soon wake up from, horrified until finding out that he was right there beside her as always. Now she was beside him, but he was not aware; in deep sleep, cuts on his face, purple bruises on his chest.

“It’s Clarke, Bellamy. I’m here.” Shortly she squeezed his hand, still warm to once more mark her presence. With every second that passed by he appeared more dead than alive though: pale skin and mouth slightly open, which - damn - _why pretend otherwise? Who was she kidding anyway?_ It scared the hell out of her to be honest. He had always been the one person she went to, whenever there was something to fear, and perhaps that was the reason to why this was the perfect day to sit here; she was deprived of sleep, yet when she finally got the chance, she tossed around, thinking about everything and nothing all at once, wanting to pull her own hair out witnessing another fight between the adults, very well knowing that she could not possibly solve it alone anymore, even though he had only been laying here for a week.

“Today was hard.” For a moment, she could not do anything except look at him, faking a small smile at the thought of talking to him like he was awake merely because that was the thing she had planned from the start, hoping it would help. But there they were, both silent, both blinded.

“ _Don’t_ leave me. Not like this, come on. _Please Bellamy_.” Recalling reality, Clarke thought of that morning; about how life’s single desire was to break her bones, making her watch as another delinquent was punished by Burne and Kane. Apart from screaming, there was nothing she could do. And the powerlessness terrified her even more than it should.

The next breath hitched in her throat as burning tears begun to pull it together, tightening abruptly, making the sobs that escaped upon her lips nearly hysterical, emotions pouring out of her; _Selfish, stupid girl -_ Sometimes hearing the truth from her own mind was the worst part, however maybe she needed it in spite of everything, suddenly noticing what was right before her; whether to live or die, was his choice. And he had much more to live for than the need everyone else had for him.

So with tears flooding, streaming down her cheeks, she gave in to desperation, moving a curl from his forehead to kiss it quickly; Not allowing herself to think about that action, she lowered her head to whisper in his ear, words low and nearly broken: “You want to wake up, Bellamy. Believe me: you want to see Octavia grow up and be that beautiful woman she will be because you raised her. You want to walk around here, watching the peaceful but save society that I know more than anyone how much you have always wanted to build. Stay _here._ ”

 

Picking herself up from the floor, Clarke turned around at the feeling of someone staring at her back: that someone was none other than Abby; the few wrinkles in her forehead looking deeper than usual, complimenting the blank facial expression and frown. But that motherly corner of her eye remained and became bigger as Clarke dried her eyes quickly.

“You need to eat, Honey.” Abby said, a somewhat sympathetic tone to her voice.

“He needs to live, mom. I’ll eat when he eats.” At those words Abby signed deeply, putting the bowl of hot soup down on the stand next to Bellamy’s makeshift bed.

It had been nearly eight days since they found him in Mount Weather, tortured to the point where only Octavia could recognize him, and although he had briefly been conscious, his next days in the medical had proved to be critical ones as for not long after, he had slipped into coma.

 

_He is a lost cause… Sorry._

* * *

 

 

 

_This love is good,_

_this love is bad._

**_This love is alive, back from the dead_ **

_These hands had to let it go free, and_

**_This love came back to me._ **

****

Words would never be able to describe the feeling - that like an electric shock- within a second had spread relief throughout her entire body - but it was a collision she barely registered until he wrapped her up and something unknown uncovered him: maybe it was the familiar scent of firewood, sweat and dry blood.

 _Was she finally light enough to fly away?_ Before having processed the thought completely, she already was, her feet off the ground, lifted by _his_ arms: Bellamy’s arms, and the most crazy thing about it was that she did not even take time to think about it, instead simply trying to comprehend that she did not have to fear anymore - the horror had lived inside of her for days, and then she finally forced it out.

In darkness, eyes squeezed shut at his touch, Clarke was almost consumed by his safety, but needing more, she wrapped her legs around his waist, hands clinging to his neck.

Their laughing mixed with one another, briefly starting time again until their eyes met, her smiling widely down at him, stopped it once more, only for a short minute though, because seeing Clarke like that the first time - really happy - was enough to knock him back to reality, where he put her back down on the ground.

“When did you wake up?” ‘ _Why am I out of breath?’_ she thought, still not breaking eye contact with Bellamy, who quickly managed to find his smile and hide the unexpected fluster.

“Before sunrise, however I couldn’t move until your mother came in some time later.” All of the nasty cuts on his face had almost healed in the sixteen days he was unconscious _(not that she had been counting them or anything)._

“And nobody told me?” Arching an eyebrow, Clarke used three seconds to glare disappointedly towards her mother, who was standing not far behind them.

“Did I forget the surprise part?” Bellamy grinned, which basically crushed her serious poker face, because none of them really dared to find out whether they were actually awake or living in a dream.

 

* * *

 

 

_I need you. You’re the good._

_And I need a little good in my life,_

_Cause’ without it,_

**_I was in an awful lot of darkness_ **

****

Sitting by the fire would never feel the same again; not when the one thing that would be found at the back of his mind was the image of sadness drawn on her face, as if it was just another feature, and somehow it at times almost seemed to in fact be.

“You’ve got to let it go, Clarke.” Absent-mindedly, the words turned a murmur when his eyes focused on nothing but the natural firelight illuminating the golden waves of her hair. They were sitting close, yet Bellamy had never felt so far apart from her.

“How am I supposed to do that? Being asked to doesn’t make it any easier to forget what they did to you.” A horror-filled flashback of the day he was dragged to camp, bleeding from stab wounds on his chest, his face pale, drained of life made her wince for the smallest second, and for the first time since he had sat down beside her, their eyes locked; the intensity of her stare caused his lips to shortly part in surprise, because although her face was expressionless, the eyes had held every tiny emotion locked up until now.

“I don’t want you to remember me like that.” Him admitting that bluntly was obviously not intended to upset her, still she could not help but to feel ashamed that she ever doubted his strength. Hell, nobody had had the courage to imagine him waking up from that coma, and Abby even had nerve to call it a miracle.

“Clarke,” He said in an attempt to catch her attention, her eyes having adverted to the ground, “we need to move on.” The brightly burning, orange flames flickered in their gazes as he sent her a reassuring smile instinctively.

“Let’s do that.” She replied, determination peeking through her voice as she smiled at him, and he could not keep himself from chuckling ever so slightly.

One moment, their eyes were competing with glow, but then the next Bellamy’s lost, because his lips decided to latch themselves onto hers. Ignoring the somewhat awkward angle from both of them sitting in the position they did, Clarke placed a hand to the back of his neck, wanting him closer, however he had a different idea, pulling her up into his lap, giving her a good opportunity to tangle her fingertips in his messy, dark curls, enjoying the taste of their kiss; smoke and the desire, which showed as Bellamy started to plant his lips on her neck as well; from the exposed skin of her collarbone travelling all the way to the soft spot under her jaw.

 _“Bellamy…”_ Removing his lips slowly, he stared into her eyes, pleasure drawn thickly in them, and for the shortest second it was puzzling: Clarke Griffin, the smart-mouthed, independent princess wanted him. No, she was not a princess anymore, not in _that_ sense at least - She was too damn good for him, and he knew it. But then her hands ghosted upon the waistband of his jeans, at an instant slipping under the fabric of his t-shirt, her fingertips running along his spine, so that he nearly bit his own tongue in order to mask a groan.

 _‘Fuck it’_ he thought, lifting her by the thighs, multitasking as he continued to kiss her back while walking towards his tent.

* * *

 

  

_Love, I have wounds, only you can mend._

**_I guess that’s love,_ **

_I can’t pretend._

Somehow, standing silently in front of the person you are not supposed to need, is more intimate than kissing them. Though, it is not just that, because the stare - oh, the stare - has a way of freezing time, giving them enough time to think it through and back away like they doubtlessly should.

But they didn’t.

 _‘You do trust me, don’t you?’_ her blue eyes said as they looked up at him - a serious expression on his face suddenly - one last time before starting to roll up his t-shirt, his hand warning her as it brushed her fingers, still it did not matter. Exposing his skin bit by bit, Clarke knew what would be there for her to see in the end, and he did so too, which was most likely why he breathed out _(nervously?)_ , throwing the piece of fabric somewhere in the corner after he had helped her get it off.

Across his bare chest, there was a lengthy, fresh scar from a stitched-up stab wound, which made Clarke want to say something - Bellamy really believed that she indeed would, but no, the silence continued a little while longer. Instead of speaking, Clarke carefully touched his abdomen, where every faint bruise and small cut expressed the horror he had been through. Running her fingers to his muscular arms next, she let herself drown in the kiss he had waiting for her, because absolutely no one had made him feel this way before - it was unable to express otherwise. And just then, he allowed himself to be dazzled by the goodness of her, the way she tasted and the way she touched him.

It was not until she felt his warm palms against the skin of her ribs, crawling up her bare back that she registered that her shirt had been tossed to the floor as well.

_Drowning with nothing but your oxygen._

He nibbled passionately at her neck again, yet this time he did not get to take the easy way out as she dug her fingernails into his shoulder blades, causing him to shortly stop in his tracks.

“Say you want me, and I won’t stop.” Bellamy said, soothing the newly formed hickey on the side of her neck with the tip of his tongue, making Clarke gasp; that was all the confirmation he needed…


End file.
